


Inter Somnium

by Deathofme



Category: Sanctuary (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-02
Updated: 2011-10-08
Packaged: 2017-10-24 05:58:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 14,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/259809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deathofme/pseuds/Deathofme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"One sip for waking, two to help sleep, third for soul's dreaming..."</p><p>A horrible accident on a mission to find the fabled Chilean Shepherd Frog venom ends in death. Helen mourns for Nikola, but finds he is persistent in reviving himself in her dreams...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> "Inter Somnium" roughly translates from Latin to "In Dreams"

 

ONE

***

 

         “Nikola, don’t push.”

 

         “Well move _faster_ , I’m about to slip.”

 

         Helen pushed off from the lip of the rock face and held gamely onto the guide rope as she patiently found a new foothold. Nikola was busily muttering under his breath about how she always picked the worst destinations for expeditions, having more trouble descending into the caverns than she was.

 

         “You know, Nikola, you could fall from this height down to the cave floor and you’d be all right. Vampire?”

 

         He chanced a quick peek downwards to what seemed like a gaping abyss below them and quickly looked forward again, fighting down a sudden spell of vertigo. While she was right, there were still certain fear instincts he was beholden to.

 

         “I don’t want to ruin my jacket.”

 

         Another fifteen minutes of steady climbing, and steady whining from his end, and Helen’s feet touched the bottom. Nikola slid the last few feet, dropping down beside her with an irritated huff.

 

         “Remind me again why I’m in the middle of nowhere with you?”

 

         Helen clicked on her flashlight and scanned their surroundings. “Because you needed some fresh air, and Will threatened to quit if I left him alone with you.”

 

         “Will?” Nikola pretended to be offended. “Will loves me. Good old Willy Z and Doctor Tesla.”

 

         Helen smirked. “I think you calling him ‘Willy Z’ is the main reason he hates you, Nikola.”

 

         Nikola shrugged, uncaring, and followed Helen as they journeyed deeper into the caverns. The rock walls glistened with moisture and lichen, and she marveled at the blossoming signs of life they found down in the depths of the Earth.

 

         “These erosion patterns must be hundreds of years old…” Helen whispered in awe.

 

Nikola pulled a face. “You aren’t going to coo and stop for every speck of dirt in here, are you?”

 

“What did I say you had to do if you wanted any of the Chilean Shepherd frog venom we collect today?”

 

Nikola opened his mouth as if to protest, but then snapped it shut and looked down sulkily at his shoes. “That I had to behave…”

 

“That’s _right_ ,” Helen said with relish. She lead them through a passage cut in the rock by years of erosion and earthquakes until they found a massive chamber with a ceiling that reached several feet above their heads.

 

“There,” She whispered as she pointed to large pools of water and recesses in the rock. Nikola stopped complaining immediately, just as entranced by the intricate networks and organic material that had formed a vast warren of nests. They heard a series of low croaking that reverberated in the rocky chamber.

 

Helen smiled in wonder. “They’re singing.”

 

They stepped carefully around the gooey lines and puddles until Helen found a newly formed nest. They crouched in front of it, and Helen gently pulled away the slimy film to reveal dozens of little frogs. The small creatures croaked excitedly, bright orange and giving off a faint glow.

 

“You could use one as a night light,” Nikola remarked dryly as Helen noted the presence of bioluminescence in her notebook. She tucked away the slim volume into her pack, pulled on a pair of latex gloves and then gently guided on into her hand. It was no bigger than her pinky finger.

 

It croaked curiously at her. Nikola had pulled on a pair of gloves as well, and then took out a sample swab and collected some of the gooey film from the creatures back.

 

“You think they like getting their shots?” He asked as she pulled out a small syringe.

 

“It might be a little startled, but this shouldn’t hurt it.” Helen gently pinched the back of the frog’s head and belly with her index finger and thumb. It squirmed slightly as she gingerly injected the syringe just beside its throat bladder and withdrew a clear fluid. Once the extraction was complete and she let the frog go, it croaked belligerently at her and furiously hopped away.

 

“There, easy as pie. We just need three more extractions and we’ll have a large enough sample to start creating a serum.”

 

Nikola threw his hands in the air. “Hurrah, more slimy things.” His mouth was twisted with disgust as she hunted for another frog to gently coax into her hands.

 

“You know, Helen, most men wouldn’t put up with your perverted ideas of fun. Wine, dancing, a night stroll … why can’t you ever be interested in something normal?”

 

Helen quickly grasped onto a frog that was trying to escape and held it up in a cage of her interlocked fingers. “Nikola, your idea of a good time is just as strange. It involves feeding pigeons, writing harassing letters to the Edison society and wandering around in a thunderstorm.”

 

“ _Naked_ in a thunderstorm.”

 

Helen shuddered and ignored the smirk on his face. “Perish the thought.”

 

“You came close to joining me once. Naughty girl…”

 

Helen looked up scandalized by the obscene purr in his voice at the last remark. Her jaw had fallen open and he had to stop himself from laughing himself sick at the sight. She hissed, “ _You_ tried to push me off the roof of Oxford! It wasn’t my fault I actually slipped and tore my dress on the weather vane!”

 

Nikola merely shrugged, unapologetic. “I would have caught you. I wouldn’t have let you fall.”

 

They bickered more as they gathered more venom samples, chattering away happily in the lonely cavern underneath the Earth. Despite his barbaric sense of humour, Helen couldn’t remember the last time she had so enjoyed herself out on a mission. Just the right level of excitement, no danger, and when he wasn’t making impudent remarks, Nikola was the only one she could enthuse over the different properties of the Shepherd’s frog venom with.

 

She had first learned of the full potential of the frogs when Bigfoot had fallen almost to the brink of death and an injection of the venom had brought him back to life. From then she had found myths and legends that had sprung up around the creatures in localized regions of Chile.

 

There was a myth that there had once been a poor farmer whose entire family had died save for his young son. A plague had swept through the village, killing crops and taking lives, and his son fell ill and was consumed by the disease. He had traveled to the lonely mountains, went deep below the Earth and prayed to the gods to spare his last child. They had shown him to a pool of water where the presence of Death guarded the orange frogs that lived there, once thought to be small spirit children of the sun, and he had collected some of the water. When his son drank of it, he was miraculously revived.

 

“One sip for waking… second sip to help sleep…” Helen chanted quietly to herself as they packed away the samples.

 

“Third sip from a good Chilean vintage?” Nikola asked wryly.

 

Helen rolled her eyes at him as she shouldered her pack and brushed the dirt from her pants legs. “No, it’s third sip for soul’s-“

 

The cavern suddenly rumbled, the walls shaking. The frogs stopped croaking immediately, and Helen grasped Nikola’s arm. They looked at each other in alarm.

 

“How far away is the exit?” Nikola whispered.

 

The cavern rumbled again ominously, dust falling from the ceiling, before it settled again just as suddenly. Helen flicked her flashlight around the cavern, alighting upon a dark crack that she hadn’t noticed buried within the shadows before. She tugged on Nikola’s arm, slowly backing away.

 

“I don’t think that was a natural quake.”

 

Nikola saw the dark crevice she was looking at, similarly backing away. “Do you think the Shepherd frogs have a shepherd?”

 

They were just a few feet away from the passage they had taken into the chamber. Helen reached for her stunner, forcing herself to continue to move back slowly despite wanting to run. They had to make no sudden movements… “It makes sense… the frogs are weak on their own, it’s perfectly logical for them to create a symbiotic relationship with a stronger abnormal that could protect them from any natural competition.”

 

“Helen? If we’re about to get gnawed on by some hairy South American mountain man, please stop being so damned logical and scientific. I’d rather you just kiss me.”

 

Despite the imminent danger they were in, Helen couldn’t help roll her eyes at him and swat his arm. “Do you _never_ stop thinking of how to seduce me?”

 

“Never.” He flashed her a smirk that was so full of ebullient audacity, infuriating but hopelessly charming at the same time. She felt the edge of the passage press against her back and found his hand, grasping it.

 

“Okay, we’re going to duck our heads and move into the passage. Halfway through, we run.”

 

She felt him squeeze back suddenly, fear making him tense up. “I see eyes in the shadow.”

 

“Bugger, just run then!”

 

They turned on their heels and made their way as quickly through the passage as they could. The rocky tunnel was only large enough for person to fit through at a time, and Helen swore she could feel the hot gushes of Nikola breathing hit the back of her neck. The Shepherd frogs suddenly began croaking together in an incredibly loud, eerie chorus. Though she could only hear the frogs and the walls rumbling, she swore something was running after them.

 

Scrambling through the rocky footing, Helen suddenly felt Nikola collide into her back and slip away. She chanced a quick glance behind her and saw Nikola fallen to the ground, being dragged away from her.

 

“Nikola!” Helen grabbed her stunner and fired. Curiously she still couldn’t see whatever it was that had hold of him. Dust falling obscured her vision, but she swore the shadows cast by the rocks had lengthened and followed them somehow. Perhaps the abnormal was photosensitive?

 

The stunner’s beamed bounced harmlessly off the rock, and she tossed it aside. Crouching down, she grabbed Nikola’s arm. He was unconscious, bleeding from a gash on his forehead. The shadows seemed to darken, inching closer to where they were, and Helen tugged his sleeve urgently. “Wake up … wake up, Nikola, come on.”

 

No amount of pleading stirred him. Desperate, Helen pulled on his arms and lifted him enough so that she could support his weight on her shoulder and gamely struggled to get them out of the cavern.

 

The shadows inched ever closer, and then began to pick up in speed, racing towards them. The croaking of the frogs was deafening and served to shake the very foundations of the rock. Chunks of the ceiling began to fall, and the passageway began to collapse.

 

With a desperate cry, Helen finally managed to pull them out of the passageway before it collapsed fully on top of them. She saw that they were still far away from the point they had rappelled into the cavern. She wasn’t sure if she could get them away fast enough before they were buried by rock.

 

Nikola looked pale, his eyes closed as if he were sleeping, a small smear of blood streaking from the corner of his mouth. Alarmed, Helen pulled them against the wall of the cavern where there was a bit of a recess in the surface. She pressed her fingers to his neck and felt no pulse.

 

“No, no, Nikola – wake up.” She gently shook him and his head fell to his shoulder, lifeless.

 

Desperately, Helen fumbled through her bag and found one of the small vials of venom. She looked for a syringe when the cavern shook violently again and she was thrown against the wall, her hand slammed into the rock and the vial shattered, glass shards buried cruelly into her hand.

 

She fell onto Nikola’s shoulder, and clung to him, inwardly weeping as the earth tore itself apart around her. Down in the Earth where the pool of water lay … guarded by the presence of Death itself. The first sip for waking, second to help sleep…

 

Why did she always have to go chasing after fantastical stories and myths? She curled up against her dearest friend who always followed her on any adventure, feeling scared and so alone.

 

Third sip for soul’s dreaming…

 

Rocks fell about her, the rumbling tossing her around again. Helen felt her head strike against something with a sickening crack and was consumed by blackness before she had even finished falling.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The second chapter is being updated immediately with the first, as the tone of the story is set better with both in tandem. I hope you enjoy!

TWO

***

 

“I think she’s awake…”

 

Helen felt like she was floating in an inky black ether, light only now beginning to interrupt the vast womb of nothing. Gradually at first, the feeling of becoming more solid accelerated and she suddenly felt as if she were being slammed back into the real world.

 

“Easy, easy, Doc.” She felt hands pushing her back, and realized she was on a bed. She heaved, struggling against some mortal bonds, more hands pushing her back, and slowly she began to orient herself. She was lying down in a bed. Her head pounded every time she tried to get up too quickly. Her eyes were still closed.

 

“Earth to Magnus…” Helen’s eyes slowly cracked open and her vision swam. She blinked a few times and Will and the Big Guy came into focus. They both looked relieved and smiled at her.

 

Will smiled gently at her. “Hey, you’ve finally pulled through.”

 

“What happened?” Her voice sounded strange to her, thin and coarse.

 

“You were buried in rubble, we managed to get you out but you sustained a head injury.”

 

“What day is it?” Her voice sounded thick and slow like molasses, she was finding it difficult to speak.

 

“You’ve lost about a week. You’re on some heavy painkillers, you need to rest.” Will held her hand soothingly, and her head swam. She hurt all over, and she felt sleep threatening to overtake her again.

 

“Nikola…”

 

Will and the Big Guy exchanged dark looks, and she looked at them pleadingly. She didn’t even realize she had tried to rise again until they pushed her gently back onto the bed. “Nikola?”

 

“Sleep, Magnus. You need to sleep…”

 

She struggled helplessly, but her eyelids were too heavy and she felt them slip shut, embracing the black nothingness once more.

 

***

 

         Helen was stone-faced when she was finally well enough to go off most of her painkillers and sedatives, and her team gathered around her for the first time to fill her in on what happened. She asked them to leave when they told her that they had found her and Nikola both, but he was beyond saving.

 

         She wept bitterly into the sheets of her bed, feeling a raw emptiness in her chest. She woke up the next morning, face still curled into her blanket, not even realizing she had cried herself to sleep.

 

         “Can I see him?” She asked quietly when the Big Guy came in alone with a tray of food. He sat down by her bedside, his enormous, powerful hands gentle and tender as he held hers.

 

         “We’ve already buried him.”

 

         She cried again into his shoulder, though silently this time. He didn’t once complain that she had gotten his hair wet, and discreetly looked away as she wiped her face clean after. She asked him to stay with her, and he read to her from a book.

 

         When Helen was well enough to leave the infirmary she found she couldn’t bear to search out his grave. She had lost so much time, really only remembering last the frightening collapse in the chamber and the shadows with eyes. And then it seemed like she had just woken up, and all of a sudden Nikola was gone and she would never see him again.

 

         It was too much to truly comprehend.

 

         Will had taken over the main day to day running of the Sanctuary, and bless him, still somehow found the time to seek her bedside a few times a day to see how she was doing and try to amuse her with some silly story of what mishap he had gotten himself into. Henry was determined that if he fed her enough chicken soup she would be right as rain again, and Kate seemed to have the same philosophy except with jello.

 

         She gathered her jacket about her as she walked through her garden, feeling the slight chill of October. She knew that she would soon feel too restless to follow orders and let herself be taken care of, but right now she just felt so tired and out of sorts. Maybe it was a good thing to rest for a little.

 

         She found one of her favourite benches, wood and worn smooth by many pleasant afternoons reading in the sun. Surrounded by her trees and flowers she felt her eyes slip shut, warmed by the sun, and fell asleep.

 

***

 

         Helen woke to the feel of someone tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear. She opened her eyes and saw Nikola looking back, a familiar sparkle in his.

 

         “You really miss me that much? Gods, woman, it just goes to show you one is never appreciated except in death.”

 

         Helen blinked, a chill running down her spine but unable to move. “Aren’t you dead?”

 

         “It happened to Kafka, Mozart…”

 

         Helen sat up straighter, her eyes wide. “Nikola, _aren’t you dead_?” She demanded.

 

         He shrugged his shoulders, giving her a disapproving look as if to tell her to lower her voice. “That’s what they’re saying, isn’t it?”

 

         “I’m dreaming.”

 

         “Must be, if you’ll let me do this.” He swooped down and kissed her soundly on the lips, she could feel his devilish grin against her mouth and looked back in shock when he withdrew.

 

         She stared at him, stunned, and then slapped him soundly across the face. He winced, working a muscle in his jaw and glared at her. “Well, that never changes.”

 

         “Even in my dreams you’re incorrigible.”

 

         He raised an eyebrow. “So this isn’t the first time you’ve dreamt of me? Oh do tell, Helen, I’m dying to know what goes on in your id.”

 

         Helen moaned, burying her face in her hands. “Please, Nikola, I find all of this really upsetting.”

 

His face softened, and he placed a gentle hand against her cheek. Her breath came out in a shivering sigh, and she clasped her hand over hers, looking mournfully into her lap.

 

“Semper et in aeternum…”

 

***

 

         Helen woke with a start, almost banging her head against the obliging trunk of the tree she had fallen asleep against. She looked wildly around her, but saw that she was alone. She forced herself to calm, and breathe more slowly, her heart pounding against her ribcage.

 

         It was just a dream … an odd one, but merely a dream.

 

         She shook her head lightly to clear herself of the cobwebs. It made sense, she had no chance to grieve or fully come to terms with what had happened. She should probably be more surprised pink elephants didn’t come marching through the garden in her dream to interrupt the proceedings considering the painkillers she had been on.

 

         Wiping the last remnants of sleep from her eyes, Helen rose to her feet and walked back to the Sanctuary. She couldn’t help but steal a glance behind her, as if to make sure there wasn’t someone else sitting on the bench.

 

***

 

         “Surprisingly, we managed to find most of the samples still intact.” Will showed her the small tray of glass vials and attempted a lighthearted smile. “I guess your expedition wasn’t in vain.”

 

         Helen looked at the vials of venom and had to bite down a wave of bitterness. Nothing was worth what had happened down in the cavern. But she gave Will a smile nonetheless, because she wasn’t angry at him and he’d been dealing with her stony moods with grace. She picked up one of the vials and inspected it under the light, more out of expectation than curiosity.

 

         “We’d been hoping to create a serum from it … the venom itself does have miraculous properties of rejuvenation and healing, but it is still a highly volatile poison. There’s an old saying that goes with it.”

 

         “First sip for waking, second to help sleep,” Will prompted encouragingly.

 

         “Third sip for soul’s dreaming…” Helen finished, placing the vial back into the tray.

 

         Will looked at her with concern. “Have you been able to talk to anybody about it yet?”

 

         Helen lowered her eyes, unable to look at him face to face. “I’m not up to it yet, Will.”

 

         “Okay, I understand. But don’t hold it in for too long. You know, probably better than I do, that this isn’t something you should bear alone. Once you feel up to talking, I’m all ears.”

 

         Helen smiled at him with as much feeling as she could muster, but still couldn’t look him in the eye. She knew where his concern was coming from, and she knew he was probably right. But his concern felt intrusive and unwelcome. The nervous looks she got from Henry and Kate as they tiptoed on eggshells around her made her feel alienated. She was just tired and sick of it all.

 

         Sensing she was walling herself away from him again, Will gave her one last squeeze on the arm and left her alone in the lab.

 

         She looked about the workstation, the notes Nikola had made when they were first designing their serum, the last records of his handwriting and pushed herself away from the desk.

 

***

 

         When she slipped into her bed, finally feeling truly alone with the privacy of her own thoughts, she gratefully let her head fall onto her pillow. She looked at her right hand and saw the fresh scars from when the vial had shattered in her grasp. A few of the scars overlapped each other and in a moment of whimsy she thought they rather looked like a ‘T’.

 

         She fought down the wave of sadness that hit her with that thought and closed her eyes to sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

THREE

***

 

         Helen was leaning against the rails of a ship, the smell of salt water in the air. She looked about her, admiring the sun rippling off the water’s surface, and enjoying the feeling of the sea breeze teasing her hair.

 

         She felt a pair of arms circle around her waist and started, bumping the top of her head against someone’s chin.

 

         “Ow.”

 

         She squirmed around and saw Nikola ruefully wrinkling his nose. “Oh god, another dream.”

 

         “You can do better than that,” he said. “Hello is always a good start.”

 

         She looked away from him, biting her lip as she trained her eyes to the ocean. She didn’t want him to see the tears that had suddenly pricked in the corners of her eyes. He didn’t let go of her waist, and instead settled his chin into her hair, holding her more closely.

 

         “I guess you’re popping up because I haven’t had a chance to properly say goodbye to you.”

 

         “Trying to get rid of me so soon?” He mumbled into her hair.

 

         She shuddered, wracked with guilt. “Nikola, it was my fault. I shouldn’t have asked you to come with me … we should have been more careful—”

 

         He shushed her, having none of it. “When were we ever careful? Besides, think of it as payback. I got you electrocuted a few times when you assisted me with my experiments at Oxford.”

 

         “You didn’t kill me,” She whispered unhappily.

 

         “But am I really dead? Can a dead man dance with you?” He grasped her arm lightly and twirled her on the spot, a light grin still adorning his lips. The sudden movement elicited a giddy thrill inside of her, but she felt too ashamed to laugh.

 

         He saw the look of guilt and despair on her face, too stubborn to leave, and pouted disappointedly. “Helen, don’t try to be rid of me so soon. One moment you’ll blink and I’ll be gone before you know it. Let me stay for at least this.”

 

         “Nikola, I’m sorry—“

 

         The skies suddenly darkened and a rumble of thunder clapped in the air. Helen looked to the heavens, alarmed, and then saw an enormous iceberg in the distance. She looked to Nikola. “What ship is this?”

 

         He looked at her a little sadly, and whispered, “Seculo seculorum…”

 

         “Nikola, where—”

 

         The ship suddenly jerked, throwing her off balance and she fell to the floor and skidded across the deck. She heard an awful groaning and screams as the ship’s hull was breached. The mournful cry of the alarm reverberated in her ears, and she desperately looked around her.

 

         She saw Nikola in the distance, too far away for her to reach out, swallowed up by the splintered wood of the ship. Her nose and eyes filled with briny seawater and her vision turned to black.

 

***

 

         “How long do I set this for?”

 

         Helen looked over briefly at Henry and then back to her work. “Set it for three hundred cycles at sixteen rotations per minute. If the machine starts making a whining noise, then lower it to fourteen.”

 

         “Oookay…” Henry frowned with concentration as he programmed in her specifications, watching with fascination as the various test tubes they had set up began whirring in a clockwise motion. While he was a quick study with almost any piece of technology, the medical field was still daunting to him and he followed all her instructions to the letter like a schoolboy afraid to sabotage his assignment. She found it rather endearing and despite his protests, insisted he assist her in the lab.

 

         She needed something to do so she wouldn’t drive herself insane, and decided the best thing was to pick up her work from where she had left off. It was easier now to read over Nikola’s notes without falling into another cycle of guilt and regret, and a part of her thought he would have liked for her to finish the experiment they had started.

 

         “So, can this stuff actually bring people back from the dead?”

 

         “It’s a rather hit or miss scenario. I don’t believe anyone who has truly passed on can be revived with the venom, but it has incredible powers of rejuvenation. The venom in its raw form, however, can also overwhelm the system and kill you instantly.”

 

         Henry looked up at her nervously for a second, realizing he had perhaps opened a sensitive topic of conversation in poor taste, but Helen pretended as if she hadn’t seen his reticence. She didn’t need him dissolving into a bundle of nerves and apologies again, she was sick of condolences.

 

         This was medicine. She was a doctor. She saw death all the time. It wasn’t anything new to her.

 

         “The serum we’re creating,” She continued to fill the awkward silence, “should be a more stable compound than the raw venom. Once we start testing we’ll see what its effects will be on cancer cells, viruses, failed immune systems … and hopefully it will do a lot of good.”

 

         “Awesome…” Henry was still staring hypnotized by the whirling test tubes, now rotating in alternating patterns of clockwise and counter-clockwise. Helen looked over and laughed. “Don’t make yourself sick staring at that.”

 

         He beamed up at her. “Four time rollercoaster marathon participant. _Nothing_ can make me sick.”

 

***

 

         Nikola lay prostate on the cold, metal table with the sheet pulled back just to his navel. His eyes were closed and his skin looked like wax paper.

 

         Helen looked down at her hands and saw they were already encased in latex gloves. She was wearing a smock. She walked over to the table hesitantly and saw a tray of tools. She picked up the scalpel and with a deep breath, began to make her ‘Y’ incision.

 

         She pulled his skin apart, it was much less resistant than it would normally be in real life, and realized she must be dreaming. She looked down and saw his ribcage with a little Shepherd frog chirping inside.

 

         “What are you doing in there?”

 

         The frog croaked at her cheerfully, hopping about where Nikola’s heart should have been.

 

         His lips parted slightly, and as if the last breath was escaping from his lungs she heard the low whisper of “lubjav”.

 

***

 

         “Lubjav…”

 

         Helen looked up, startled. “What did you say?”

 

         Kate looked back slightly bewildered, and then pointed an accusing finger to the Big Guy. “Lutefisk. He’s been trying to make the stuff in the basement. I told him he’s crazy—”

 

         “It’s a delicacy,” he huffed.

 

         “It’s fish in _lye_. You’ll get us all killed! And it _smells_.”

 

         Helen zoned out the daily bickering over the breakfast table and took another sip of her tea. She flexed the fingers of her right hand experimentally; it was still sore. She felt a hot, deep stinging in the crease of her palm and turned her hand over to see the ‘T’ on her hand had opened and was bleeding lightly.

 

         She grabbed a napkin to blot the small cuts and watched as the white cloth stained red, the ‘T’ surfacing through the material like a ghostly photograph developing, and branching off into a tiny red network of veins.

 

***

 

         “What happened to you, old friend, when you took the Shepherd’s venom?”

 

         Helen was sitting with the Big Guy on her favourite bench in the garden. He was the only one who didn’t patronize her or fuss over her, content to treat her just the same as he always had. She appreciated it more than she could say. He paused to collect his thoughts, scratching his head.

 

         “It was when I was younger. Every one of my people have to do the Drop when they are ready, to prove they are an adult. I jumped, but I was too close to the cliff edge and hit my head.” She watched as he unconsciously brought a hand to the side of his head where he had been hit, reliving the sensation. “I fell a great distance and they found me at the bottom of the mountain, dead. They gave me the venom and after many nights of prayer they found my soul again.”

 

         She marveled at the quaint choice of words, still unable to find the answer she was looking for. “Were you truly dead when they found you?”

 

         “I don’t know,” He answered truthfully. “I don’t remember any of it.”

 

         “I wonder what the degree of death must be for the venom to still be effective … your heart can stop and you can be legally dead, but there is always the chance of revival within a certain timeframe…”

 

         He looked at her sternly, a small grunt hiccoughing in his throat. “You’re thinking too much about this. You need to stop blaming yourself. You can find all the answers you want now, but what’s done is done. And you don’t need to lose sleep over it.”

 

         Helen looked away guiltily. It was true, she had to find some rationalization, some way to compartmentalize and detach herself from what had happened in order to think of it at any length. If she approached death as Helen the scientist, as a mere phenomenon, she would not have to linger over what she had lost.

 

         “I haven’t even seen his grave…” She whispered quietly to herself.

 

***

 

         Helen sat up suddenly, jolted by the sudden movement of the carriage. She looked down at her hands and saw they were encased in thin, lace gloves. She looked out and realized she was in London … a London from a very long time ago.

 

         “I promise to make you happy for all eternity…” She felt the whisper of breath beside her ear, those familiar words that had haunted her for a long time, and saw the small ring box presented in front of her. It snapped open and she saw a small glass vial inside with a clear serum.

 

         Surprised, she looked to the man holding the box and saw Nikola winking back. He looked like he did back at their Oxford days, his hair slicked back and a dark moustache adorning his lip. The devilish sparkle in his eyes, though, was something he had picked up much later.

 

         “This wasn’t you,” She blurted out. “John said that to me.”

 

         He closed the box and pressed it into her hand. “In America they have a saying, don’t look a gift horse in the mouth. Manners, my dear.”

 

         Helen clutched the tiny box in her hand, looking out the window as she watched familiar streets roll by. This had been the day she and John had gone to see _Twelfth Night_. The day she had promised to be someone’s wife.

 

         “The day a small part of me died,” He said matter-of-factly and without a hint of bitterness or regret. She looked at him, startled.

 

         “You’ve never been so frank about that before.”

 

         He leant an arm against the back of the carriage, playing with the edges of his moustache. He was in a well-worn suit, cheap as she used to tease him about, with a familiar cloth square tucked in his pocket. “You can ask me anything about it if you’d like.”

 

         “I wouldn’t know what to ask…”

 

         His eyes turned black and she saw the points of his teeth lengthen momentarily, before he grinned and his vampiric features had vanished again. “Why do you think I agreed to participate in the source blood experiment, Helen? Apart from an insane drive for intellectual curiosity, it was something that truly frightened me. Genetics and mutations were a field of science utterly alien to me, whereas electricity was like a second skin.”

 

         Stunned at the open admission, Helen stammered, “Why did you do it then?”

 

         “You made a promise. And this _time_ , this era was one where a promise is not lightly made. You would never be able to be mine after giving your hand to Druitt. I fancied this was something we could all have together, that no one could take away. We would both have the same blood in our veins.”

 

         “But that would go for the same as Nigel, James … even John.”

 

         He winced slightly at John’s name, but shrugged. A curious smile, one that was a touch melancholic, played around his mouth. “I can always compromise or make for allowances when it comes to you.”

 

         She looked down into her lap, feeling a hot rush of shame. She had always known in the back of her mind how wounded Nikola had been of her engagement to John … but he had never approached her, had never declared any intentions for her. And at the time, she had viewed him as her dearest friend and hadn’t wanted any more than that. To hear this outpouring of his true feelings…

 

         “Why have you given me this?” She asked, holding up the box with the serum inside. “It’s the venom, isn’t it?”

 

         He leant over, delicately taking the box from her hands and opening it. “One sip for waking…” He whispered, uncorking the small vial and holding it to her lips.

 

         “Wake up, Helen…”

 

***

 

          Helen bolted upright, her chest heaving as she shook off the remnants of sleep. There were tears painting her cheeks, and she looked about the darkness of her room.

 

         She realized one of her hands was clenched tight, and shaking, she slowly uncurled her fingers. A small glass vial of the venom sample was in her hand. She stared at it in wonder, a _frisson_ of fear making her shudder.

 

         The Big Guy was setting down a tray of tea, and came over to her bedside, worried. When he asked her in his comforting, gruff voice if she had a bad dream, she curled up against his arm and sobbed freely.

 

         “I miss him…

 

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

FOUR

***

 

         Helen turned the small vial over and over again in her hands, oblivious to the world around her. She was trying to remember when she had picked it up and taken it around with her. She couldn’t remember ever taking a sample out of the lab … and she couldn’t think of a good reason why she would ever do such a thing in the first place.

 

         But there it was … as if Nikola had reached through her dream and placed it there himself.

 

         She tucked the small vial away into her pocket, thinking to bring it back to the lab later. She had to check on the maturation process of the serum sometime this afternoon anyway.

 

         Once she was down in the lab she forgot all about the small vial in her pocket. Henry had already started working, fastidiously taking notes on the progress of each sample. He had found the work to his liking and now assisted Helen without prompting. Each sample had been given different inhibitors and bonding agents to see which combination worked best, and all had different times they needed to set.

 

         “Number three looks like it should be ready in an hour or so,” Henry muttered as he craned his neck to inspect the small test tubes through the plastic window of the refrigerator.

 

         They worked tirelessly side by side, and when sample three was ready Helen injected it into three different trays of bacteria cultures to see the effects different dosages had.

 

         Five milligrams began to accelerate and promote cell rejuvenation. Ten milligrams placed everything into stasis. Fifteen milligrams seemed to have a delayed effect … while the previous two responses were almost instantaneous the curious third sample needed more time to reveal its secret.

 

         Helen thought to herself a touch whimsically, first for waking, second to help sleep…

 

***

 

         “God, this just goes on forever and ever…”

 

         Helen started when Will suddenly waved his hand in front of her face. “Calling Doctor Magnus…”

 

         “What was that, Will?”

 

         He pointed at his computer screen in annoyance. “The clearance forms we need to have to transfer the steno. I was just saying they go on and on.” He looked at her curiously. “Are you all right? Have you been getting enough sleep?”

 

         “Yes, yes of course.” She didn’t even sound convincing to her own ears. Will pushed his chair forward so that he could sit in front of her, and insisted on examining her pupils.

 

         “Have you been taking any sedatives?” He asked.

 

         She shook her head, and he frowned, trying to puzzle out a solution. She sighed wearily, trying to wave him off. “Being disoriented and losing focus is all completely normal after head trauma. In a few weeks I’ll be back to my usual self.”

 

         “I don’t know … I’ve seen you bounce back sooner from a lot worse…” She saw the question about to form on his lips and gave him a stony look, daring him to finish the thought. Will hesitated and backpedalled slightly. “Just, you know … when you’re ready.”

 

         “I know, Will, you’re all ears.” Helen regretted snapping at him the second the words flew from her mouth, but she couldn’t take them back. The damage was already done. Will shrugged his shoulders and resolutely looked back to his work, but she could tell she had offended him deeply. Sighing quietly, she felt like banging her head on her desk.

 

         The ghostly ‘T’ on her palm prickled.

 

***

 

         The beam of Helen’s lantern flickered in the gloom, and she had to strain her eyes to make out her surroundings. When the lantern’s watery light fell upon the stone walls she saw beautiful, faded hieroglyphs etched onto their surfaces. She gasped in wonder, swirls of dust motes dancing in the air.

 

         King Tut’s tomb. She had gone on an expedition to find his resting place so many decades ago. Not a young woman, but in the infancy of her longevity.

 

         She picked her way carefully through the ruins, instinctively remembering the way to the old pharaoh’s chamber.

 

         The sarcophagus lay in the center of a room, covered in dust and cobwebs, almost obscuring the brilliant gold that painted its surface. With a thrill of excitement, she made her way over, setting down her lantern, and brushing away the dust from the king’s face.

 

         She heard a creaking, rasping noise coming from within the sarcophagus and took a startled step back. The grating sound of nails scraping inside the tomb caused her heart to skip a beat.

 

         The lid of the sarcophagus began to slide open in jerking movements. She heard a groan and a pale hand reach out over the side.

 

         Nikola rose, his eyes black as midnight and his voice a deep, guttural growl. “Why, what a face to wake up to.”

 

         She took another step back, the sour taste of adrenaline in her mouth. His laugh was menacing and hungry as he hauled himself out of the sarcophagus. She could see the points of his teeth, the vampire fully taken over.

 

         “I can smell your fear…” He whispered in silky tones, stepping out of the tomb and flexing his shoulders. She could hear his joints crack as they set back into place, and the menacing click of his talons as they shot out from his fingertips.

 

         “Why are you afraid of me?” He asked with a hungry smile on his lips.

 

         “I’m not afraid,” She whispered, his cruel laughter ringing in her ears, disbelieving. He stepped closer to her and she backed away another step, wishing she had not set down her lantern.

 

         “You have no reason to be afraid of me, Helen…”

 

         “No,” She said, fighting the tremor in her voice. “You would never hurt me.”

 

         “I didn’t say that.”

 

         She blinked, and suddenly he had collided into her, slamming her against the wall of the tomb. Her breath hitched in her throat as she was confronted by the dead, black holes his eyes had become. She felt as if she were pinned by the gaze of a hawk. His eyes trailed along the line of her neck, his nostrils flaring slightly as he searched for the scent of her blood.

 

         “You can’t kill me so easily,” He drawled, the tip of a talon skittering across her neck, tickling her skin. She found it hard to breathe, afraid to move lest she be pierced by the claw.

 

         With a sudden movement he had swooped down to her neck and bit her with a crushing amount of force. She cried out, her windpipe squeezed under the pressure and unable to scream. She could feel the warmth of the blood streaming down from her neck and the greedy swirl of his tongue as he drank.

 

***

 

         When she looked at herself in the mirror it was with shock to see two pricks where she had dreamt she was bitten. They were small, faint, and unlike the savage bite she had received, but it was a mark she still should not have had.

 

         Her heart raced, and she quickly splashed cool water on her face before quickly leaving the bathroom.

 

         When Will found her later it was to see her feverishly going over all the research and material she had compiled on _sanguine vampirus_ and the original source blood experiment.

 

         “Something new come up?”

 

         Helen paused for a moment, afraid to voice her thoughts, but felt as if she needed someone to know her fears. “Will … how hard is it to kill a vampire?”

 

         “Pretty hard…” He said reluctantly, unsure of where the conversation was going.

 

         “How long did you examine his body for? How do you know he’s really dead?”

 

         Will looked at her a little sadly. “Magnus…”

 

         “I’m serious, Will.”

 

         “Well, he wasn’t breathing, he had no pulse, and his heart wasn’t beating,” Will snapped a little irritably. Helen knew she was losing credibility with him quickly, and pulled down the collar of her shirt.

 

         “Look at these. What do they look like to you?”

 

         Will leaned in so he could take a closer look, reaching out a finger to lightly feel the marks. “Pin pricks. Looks like you’ve been bitten by something.”

 

         “I had a dream, Will … I’ve been having these dreams, and in the last one I was bitten. Right here. And I wake up and find these.”

 

         He was taken aback, but then rubbed the back of his head awkwardly. When he spoke she could hear that he was trying to keep his incredulity at bay and be kind to her. “You were probably bitten by something while you were sleeping, felt it and your dream accounted for it somehow.”

 

         Helen sounded scared now, desperate for him to believe her. “But I had a dream a week ago where I was given a small vial of the venom sample I collected. And when I woke up it was in my hand. No explanation for how it could have gotten there.”

 

         “Magnus, you probably picked it up to work on it and forgot about it. This is all perfectly normal. We all experience missing time in our day. And you’ve been going through a lot of stress, recently.”

 

         “ _I did not do this to myself_.”

 

         Will’s face hardened slightly, and she looked away, ashamed of her outburst. She could tell he was growing impatient with her, and he imparted in a no-nonsense tone, “There is all a rational explanation for this. Dreams are funny things, and the subconscious mind has a way of picking up on things without our ever realizing it. Maybe you should try taking a sedative tonight, reset your sleep cycle.”

 

         She hung her head in her hands, suddenly feeling drained. “Perhaps you’re right.”

 

***

 

         “Do we have to use Algernon?”

 

         Helen pulled a face and then laughed. “Henry, you can’t go naming all the mice. Soon you won’t let me use any of them in experiments.”

 

         He poked a finger through the small cage, teasing the brown mouse with a white stripe on its face. “Unless it’s an experiment to see how much cheese they can eat.”

 

         She shook her head at him, his moments of whimsy were too endearing. He brought the little mouse, or Algernon, from its cage and held it gently in his hands. Helen flicked the last air bubble from the hypodermic needle, and injected the mouse with the Shepherd’s serum. Fifteen milligrams. Perhaps in a larger organic being the effects would be more pronounced.

 

         Henry cooed at the mouse, promising it extra seed, and placed it back in its cage. It squeaked contentedly at him, seemingly unharmed by the injection, and ran for its water bottle.

 

         Helen picked up the small glass jar of serum number three, and with a thought forming in the back of her mind, slipped it into her pocket.

 

***

 

         Helen sat in her bed, unable to concentrate on the book she was reading. She felt again the phantom mouth around her neck, the sudden shock and crushing impact of being bitten, and a shiver worked through her body.

 

         She looked to the wine glass on her bedside table and the small syringe beside it.

 

         One sip for waking. Two to help you sleep.

 

         She picked up the syringe and emptied its contents into her glass of wine. Ten milligrams. She sipped the wine, unable to taste any difference in flavour, and thought this was a rather seductive drink. If she hadn’t mixed it herself, she would have never known the secrets it held.

 

         Her eyelids felt heavy and her limbs were slowly being overtaken by a comforting lassitude. She sunk back into her pillow and gratefully embraced sleep.


	5. Chapter 5

FIVE

***

 

         Helen was in a vineyard.

 

         The sun shone through a curtain of waxy grape leaves, and she could smell the sweetness of the fruit in the air. Enchanted, she picked a meandering path through the vines, laughing sweetly as they brushed against her face in greeting.

 

         She saw a movement by her feet, and stopped where she stood. A small bright orange frog hopped across the ground and seemed to stop in unison with her. It pointed its tiny arrow-shaped head up in her direction and croaked. “Lubjav.”

 

         Helen cocked her head curiously at the frog. What an odd thing to say.

 

         It croaked again, “Lubjav”, before hopping out of view.

 

         Helen tried to follow where the frog had disappeared to, sometimes hearing its faint croak amongst the vines. She pushed aside a thick bunch of leaves and branches, grapes falling to her feet, and saw a man standing amongst the fruit.

 

         He turned around slightly so she could see his face. “Why are you dreaming of me?” He asked.

 

         In a small voice she said, “I don’t think I was meant to.”

 

         Nikola held out his hand to her, and pulled her into the small clearing where he was standing. He smelt of red wine and dust, and she found it comforting. His fingers brushed delicately against the marks on her neck with a touch of regret.

 

         “Eighteen. Fifty. Six.”

 

         She looked at him, puzzled.

 

         He smiled softly at her and whispered, “Vilmot te.”

 

***

 

         When Helen woke she smelt crushed grapes on her fingers, and closed her eyes so she could pretend she was still in the vineyard. It was the only sweet moment in her day.

 

         The instant she walked into the lab she saw Will and Henry hunched over his computer screen heatedly discussing something in hushed tones. When they noticed her the conversation stopped immediately and Henry, poor sweet boy, looked properly embarrassed and avoided her eyes.

 

         She forced a smile. “Morning, gentlemen.”

 

         “Hey, doc,” Henry muttered into his collar. Will straightened up and walked over to her. He spoke lowly. “Can we talk?”

 

         “I don’t see what there is to discuss, Will.”

 

         He gave her a pointed look, but left without another word. Henry was still resolutely staring at his screen, trying his best to ignore the awkward silence.

 

         “How’s our mouse doing?”

 

         The corners of Henry’s mouth drooped a little. “Algie died.”

 

         “I’m … I’m sorry to hear that, Henry.”

 

         “Yeah, I just put him in a little box.” Helen saw the small cardboard box he was speaking of on the corner of his desk. She picked it up, opening the lid and saw the still body of the small mouse inside. She tried to give him a soothing smile, but found it awkward and plastic on her lips.

 

***

 

         “I’m worried, that’s all. I don’t think it would be a bad idea to get back onto sedatives. A mild one.”

 

         Helen sighed, feeling irritable. “I don’t think drugging me into oblivion will solve your problems, Will.”

 

         His face stiffened, and he said quietly, “That was unnecessary.”

 

         It was, but at this point she didn’t care. She perused the book in her hands, a text on the science of sleep phenomena and dreaming. She wanted to know what was possible to occur in dreams and what was not. Will sat down beside her, refusing to be ignored.

 

         “Magnus … this is a difficult time for you. It’s perfectly normal for you to try and rationalize what’s happening, but it isn’t healthy to create fantasies and ignore the truth.”

 

         She snapped her book shut, unable to keep a steely edge from her voice. “Alright then, Doctor Zimmerman, what’s your diagnosis? What sort of mental delusion am I under, and what would you prescribe for such an unbalanced mind?”

 

         He reeled from the unexpected attack, and looked even more concerned. Helen knew her petulant manner wasn’t winning her any points at the moment, but she was so tired of being coddled. Of not being believed.

 

         “Just …” He sighed deeply, getting up from his seat, “Just get some sleep.”

 

***

 

         One for waking, two for sleep…

 

         Helen set down her glass, her tongue searching for the elusive taste of the Shepherd’s serum, still unable to find any tangible trace, as she sank into her pillow and welcomed night.

 

         When her eyes opened again she found herself in a torn, snow-covered landscape. Her breath streamed from her nose and mouth in smoky plumes, and her body was seized by an uncontrollable shiver.

 

         The snow that blanketed the landscape seemed to muffle all noise. She heard the mournful calling of a crow, her own heart beating in her ears, and a faint rhythmic “ _thud!_ ” somewhere in the distance. She saw a small cottage buried in the wintry blanket and a shadowed figure labouring away outside.

 

         Helen made her way over to the only sign of life, rubbing at her arms and trying to fight off the oppressing chill in the air.

 

         As she came closer she realized it was a man chopping firewood outside the small, wooden house. He paused in his work, a fur coat bundled tightly about him, and wiped the sweat from his brow with a worn handkerchief. He noticed her approaching, and in a clipped accent suddenly called out, “Helen?”

 

         Helen gratefully stumbled over to him, and Nikola undid his coat, placing it around her shoulders. Her teeth chattered, and he placed a finger underneath her chin and examined her in concern.

 

         “What are you doing out in the cold?”

 

         She looked about the bleak, lonely surroundings. “Where are we?”

 

         His lips quirked in a small smile. “Smiljan.”

 

         Helen grasped onto his arm tightly, staring about her surroundings with newfound wonder. Smiljan … in all the years she had known Nikola he had never spoken much of where he had come from or his life before Oxford. Here she was standing now in the place he was born.

 

         Nikola observed her shivering shoulders, her lightly tinged blue lips and said, “Helen, this is no place for you.”

 

         “This place has a certain beauty about it.”

 

         He rubbed her arms through the sleeves of the heavy coat, unconcerned for his own person now only clothed in a thin shirt and work slacks. “It is too cold, too harsh and too unforgiving for you.”

 

         Helen turned to him. “And for you?”

 

         He smiled sadly at her. “Leave me to my doom.”

 

         She placed her hands around his face, her head shaking “no”. If she wept, she did not notice, for any tears would have frozen instantly in the chilly climes. Nikola picked up his hatchet once more and began to chop more wood. “I will build up a fire for you.”

 

         Helen laid the coat by her in the snow so she could sit, wrapping the sleeves around her for warmth. She felt herself drifting, watching the cold, gray sky above her. Her body sank against the fur, fingers falling onto the icy ground.

 

         Nikola suddenly stepped over her, grasping her hand and placing it to his mouth. His moustache tickled against her skin gently, and then she felt a sharp pain in her finger as he bit it. He looked at her sternly as she cried out. “Lubjav, do not sleep here.”

 

         Bright red drops fell from her fingers, eaten up greedily by the pristine snow.

 

***

 

         Helen’s fingers trembled as she flipped through the pages of the book. It had finally come in for her, on loan from the Moscow Sanctuary. It was a picture Almanac of the major regions of Eastern Europe. Photograph after photograph of bleak landscapes, mountains, farmland and snow.

 

         Will stepped in to the library, and walked over curiously to where Helen was seated. “Good book?” He craned his neck so he could read the title on the cover page.

 

         “I just want you to know one thing, Will…” Helen said, her hands shaking slightly. “I have never been to or ever seen a photograph of Smiljan before…”


	6. Chapter 6

SIX

***

 

         “Magnus, can we please talk? I’m getting really—“

 

         Helen turned on her heel and snapped, “If you’re going to say you’re worried about me, Will, I’ve heard quite enough.”

 

         He moved and blocked the doorway to her office, and paled when he saw the livid expression on her face. He held up his hands in a gesture of surrender, and softened his tone. “I know these past few weeks have been difficult for you, and I’m sorry if I haven’t made it any easier. I want to talk to you, Magnus – no, I want to _listen_. Okay? I just want you to tell me what’s going on. I swear I’ll hear you out.”

 

         Helen eyed him suspiciously, but her tone was hopeful. She was desperate for someone to believe her, to maybe even help her figure out what was happening to her. “You’ll let me say my piece, no judgments?”

 

         Will nodded. “You speak your piece, say what’s on your mind. And in return I just want you to hear _me_ out too. Sound fair?”

 

         She felt a touch of trepidation, would he really be able to see where she was coming from? But she knew Will had only been trying to help, and was only trying to help her now. They sat back down, and Helen began pulling out the medical texts and journals she had been going over.

 

         “Ever since … ever since I got back,” She forced herself past the lump in her throat that formed when she was about to say “when Nikola died” and pressed on, “I have been having a host of odd dreams, but now I’m beginning to suspect they’re something more. I’ve been seeing things in my dreams that can’t possibly have come from any previous recollection or past event.”

 

         Will nodded gamely, trying to follow her reasoning. “Such as?”

 

         “The last one I had truly couldn’t have come from anywhere in my subconscious. I was in Smiljan, a small region in Croatia. I’ve never been there or seen any pictorial representation of it, but when I looked up photographs of the region … it was exactly the same. How could I have dreamt a place I’ve never seen before?”

 

         Will blinked, trying to keep his disbelief at bay, and patiently looked at the Picture Almanac. “All right … are you ready to hear me out?” Helen bit back a sigh and nodded. “I think that has a rational explanation as well. We can’t always remember exactly what we see in our dreams, and sometimes when we wake we see things in our day-to-day life that we then implant into our memory of the dream. When you dreamt of Smiljan and then looked up pictures of it, your mind probably pasted those pictures into your memory of your dream. It’s very common.”

 

         Helen looked at him helplessly. “The bite marks? The vial?”

 

         Will dug into his last reserves of patience, determined to be kind and gentle. “There are rational explanations for that as well. I know this is all pretty freaky – but our brains can do some extraordinary stuff.” He clasped her hand gently. “This is where you hear me out. I don’t disbelieve you, or think you’re crazy. I do think that you need closure. This is eating you up, Magnus … it isn’t healthy.”

 

         Helen trembled slightly. “How can being hit by falling rocks kill a vampire? They’re stronger than that.”

 

         Will sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I don’t know. We don’t know what happened down in the caverns. Maybe it wasn’t the rocks, maybe it was something else.”

 

         “Maybe, maybe, _maybe_. You have no clear answers but you’re determined to see him dead.”

 

         Will stared at her, mouth agape, and then shook his finger angrily at her. “ _This_ is what I’m talking about. I wish you could see yourself from another side – Magnus, you’re in denial! And you’re taking it out on everyone else. You need to come to terms with what happened instead of trying to twist medical theories and the workings of everyday phenomenon to fit your fantasies.”

 

         “ _How dare you_ —“

 

         Will got to his feet. “For _everyone’s_ sake. The Sanctuary is going to fall apart if you can’t pull yourself together. And no one wants to see you crack, Magnus, can’t you see that? You need to get better for _you_. We’re just trying to help…”

 

         Helen felt herself shaking, and was about to angrily demand Will leave her alone, but she was hit with a sudden spell of vertigo. He noticed something was wrong with her and immediately came to her side.

 

         “Magnus? Are you okay?”

 

         Helen blinked sluggishly, her vision fading in and out. She heard Will say in a panicked voice, “I’ll get help”, and gripped the edge of her desk so she wouldn’t fall over. Her vision swam and faded to black.

 

***

 

         “I see eyes in the shadows…”

 

         Helen saw Nikola turn to her, his eyes wide and frightened. They were in the collapsing caverns, the Shepherd frogs chorus causing the earth itself to quake. She reached for his hand, but it felt as if everything was happening underwater, and she couldn’t reach out quickly enough.

 

         “ _Run_ , Nikola!”

 

         Something snagged Nikola by the ankle and he was jerked back away from her, falling hard to the ground. He was pulled away into the unfathomable darkness of the cave.

 

         “Nikola!”

 

         “Helen…” She heard her name reverberate around her, echoing within her chest.

 

***

 

         “Magnus … please wake up…”

 

         Helen opened her eyes slowly, wincing against a sharp pain in her head. When her vision finally came into focus she saw Will and the Big Guy standing over her. She was in the infirmary propped up against a bed. Will’s face melted into an expression of relief and guilt.

 

         “Magnus, I’m so sorry—“

 

         The Big Guy patted Will kindly, but firmly on the shoulder. “She needs space. Go.” Will left, his head hanging low.

 

         Helen sat up slowly, gingerly massaging her temples. The Big Guy passed her a cup of tea and bade her to drink. “He means well,” he said in his gruff voice.

 

         She sipped at the cup, feeling some warmth spread back to her. “I know … I’m afraid this has been difficult on everyone.”

 

         The Big Guy placed his large, powerful hand on her shoulder and squeezed comfortingly. “You should be easier on yourself.”

 

         “Thank you, old friend,” She whispered as she squeezed his hand back.

 

***

 

         Helen walked by Henry’s small station in the lab and stopped when she saw the small cardboard box that was still on his desk. She thought he had gotten rid of the mouse already, and was intrigued to find it still there. Perhaps he had forgotten about it.

 

         Frowning, taken in by some strange curiosity, Helen gently picked up the box and opened the lid. She saw the small, still body of Algernon inside, his little paws curled up against his body. He could have been sleeping.

 

         She felt a small twinge of sadness and was about to place the lid back on the box when she noticed the curious absence of something. Smell. Helen gingerly lifted the box to her nose, but could not smell death or rot on the poor creature.

 

         Fascinated, and a little unnerved, Helen lifted Algernon from the box. He hung about limply, unmoving, and certainly looked the portrait of death, but his body was not stiff or cold.

 

         An electrifying through gripping her, Helen brought Algernon over to the scan bed for the MRI. She thought it somewhat humorous to activate the large machine for such a tiny beast, but she had a question tickling in her mind that would not let go.

 

         She set the MRI to only scan for a cycle of fifteen seconds. Her eyes flickered eagerly over the computer screen and what she saw caused her heart to skip a beat.

 

         Brain activity.

 

         The mouse was alive.

 

         Sleeping deeply, seemingly dead to the world, but somehow it was still alive.

 

         “Nikola…” She breathed to herself. Maybe, just maybe … she couldn’t allow herself to truly hope for such a thing, but she was rooted to the spot and she stared hypnotized by the faint electronic flickers of the subconscious brain on her screen.

 

***

 

         “To your health.” Nikola raised his wineglass to her and sipped, the curve of the glass hiding his smile. She saw she held a glass of her own, and sipped at the red wine. Dry, crisp and with only a hint of bitterness in the aftertaste.

 

         She smelled dust and saw that they stood in her wine cellar. She giggled, it was as if they had stolen away down here like disobedient school children to raid the stash of wine in secret.

 

         “Can you remember what my favourite vintage is?” He asked her with a grin. Helen pursed her lips in a small frown of concentration.

 

         “Are we drinking it?”

 

         The sly look on his face confirmed her suspicions, and she sniffed the wine in her glass. She then tasted it carefully again … there was a subtle note at the end, almost reminding her of black currant.

 

         “It can’t be a merlot … you hate the stuff. Beaujolais?”

 

         Nikola merely shrugged. “Is it so difficult to pin me down after all these years? Come, Helen. Try harder.”

 

         She sipped at the wine again, and tasted only dust. She looked back at him helplessly. His hands reached into the front pocket of his jacket and pulled out a small slip of folded paper. He set down his glass and pulled out a dusty bottle from one of the racks. It was empty, and he slipped the piece of paper inside.

 

         “It’s yours if you can remember me…”

 

         “Nikola, how can I forget you?”

 

         He merely raised a finger to his lips and placed the bottle back. Helen stepped forward, eager to see which bottle the small note had been placed into, but he stopped her with a hand to her arm.

 

         His eyes flashed black before returning to their stormy blue-gray. “Try, Helen… try…”


	7. Chapter 7

SEVEN

***

 

         “I know you don’t believe me, Will, and I don’t begrudge you your sentiment. I know this has all been difficult, but I know have something incontrovertible to show you. I just need to find it…”

 

         Will scratched his head in bemusement as he followed Helen down to the Sanctuary wine cellar. She walked so quickly she had to force herself not to run, but her excitement and anticipation was overwhelming.

 

         “Another dream, but this time he left me something. Something in the wine cellar. And if it _is_ there, then I can’t have made it all up.”

 

         “What did he leave you?”

 

         “A message in a bottle.” Helen scanned the cellar, waving a cloud of dust from her face, and decidedly walked over to a specific rack. “Here, the Spanish rojas … his favourite type of wine.”

 

         She scanned the bottles, a small voice inside of her afraid that she would not be able to find the right one, but determinedly she ran her fingertips over the worn glass. It had to be here…

 

         Her eyes lighted on a dusty, unassuming bottle with a peeling label. Her fingers trembled as she brought it down. “Eighteen fifty-six … his birthday.” The bottle was empty and she shook it and heard a light rattling inside. Even Will was shocked, and watched in anticipation as she uncorked it.

 

         A small slip of folded paper fell into her hand. Nervously, she unfolded it and smoothed it out flat. In heartbreakingly familiar handwriting she saw a small message for her. _Cura te ipsum!_

“What does it say?” Will asked eagerly.

 

         “It’s latin … it means physician, heal thyself.”

 

She wondered at the cryptic words on the stained paper. It wasn’t what she was expecting … she had hoped to find something clearer, more definitive. Perhaps as simple as “I am alive” or “Tesla” or … and she thought this only in a very deep part of her mind, “lubjav”.

 

Either way, she felt a thrill run through her body, and she held up the slip of paper triumphantly. “See, Will? _See?_ He’s alive, I know he must be.”

 

Will seemed just as pleased that they had found the hidden note, but at her last words his expression turned to shock. He stammered, unsure of how to phrase his next words without sounding cruel. “This is extraordinary, Magnus, it is…”

 

Her face fell when she noticed his reticence. Coolly, she supplied for him, “But?”

 

Will looked sheepish and couldn’t meet her gaze. “But I don’t see how this means he’s still alive.”

 

Helen felt the bottle slip from her grasp and shatter to the floor. The noise startled Will, but the breaking glass seemed to force something inside of her to snap. She held up the scrap of paper, the last record of Nikola’s handwriting. “How could I have known this was here? How? Nikola never told me of a hidden message, had never even _hinted_ of doing such a thing.”

 

Will tried to indulge her. “Then how do you think you’ve found it?”

 

“The Shepherd’s venom. I’ve been having dreams induced by the Shepherd’s venom. We don’t rightly know the full properties of it. Perhaps I’ve been able to communicate telepathically, or empathically with him somehow. Will, this could be a cry for _help_. The dreams might be his only way to communicate with me, with someone, to let us know he’s still alive.”

 

Will’s face darkened suddenly and she could sense a fury bubbling within him. She was unsure as to the origin of his sudden anger, and took a step back uneasily. “You told me you weren’t taking any sedatives.”

 

“That isn’t the point—”

 

“Magnus, you’re _right_ , we don’t know anything about that venom? And you’ve been _taking_ it? How much have you administered to yourself this whole time?” Will’s voice had risen in volume and echoed in the cellar. She felt uneasy at the sudden change in atmosphere, clinging desperately onto the note.

 

“I’m _fine,_ Will.”

 

He threw up his hands incredulously, trying to bite back an angry tirade and failing. “That is so _reckless_. That is so dangerous! Magnus, you could be poisoning yourself – no, no you _are_ poisoning yourself. These dreams, your erratic behaviour, you brought this all on _yourself_.”

 

She shook, trembling violently at the accusations, and bitterly felt her fears confirmed that he would never be able to understand her. “Then how do you explain this note? It is _his_ handwriting, not mine.”

 

“Tesla’s hidden stuff down here before, the man loves leaving behind riddles. He probably left that down here years ago as a private joke and left you clues all around the Sanctuary. You’ve probably pieced it all together subconsciously, and now that you’re desperate to prove he’s alive you’ve latched onto this.”

 

Helen fought back the angry tears that were threatening to spill from her eyes. She had never felt so betrayed, so humiliated and hurt. She could hear her voice turning to steel. “That’s as much a stretch as what I’m suggesting.”

 

Will, still furious, was deflating from his initial rush of fury and just looked at her sadly. She felt pathetic under the disappointment in his eyes. “It’s just like Ashley all over again.”

 

Helen could barely raise her voice over a strangled whisper. “Don’t you dare mention my daughter.”

 

Will held up his hands in defeat, unwilling to spar with her. The look of sadness in his eyes hurt her more than his anger. “Stop taking the venom, Magnus. Stop killing yourself.” He turned his back to her and made his way out of the cellar, regret and bitter disappointment weighting his every step.

 

When she was sure he was gone, Helen sank to the floor. She ignored the hot pricks of glass shards cutting into her legs, and holding the slip of paper she cried.

 

 _Cura te ipsum!_ _Oh, Nikola, if only I could._

***

 

One sip for waking, two to help sleep…

 

Helen felt a pang of guilt when she took the two doses of the Shepherd’s serum, but her hand was steady and determined. She had to know, she had to see him. She had to ask him outright what all of this meant.

 

When Helen dreamt, it was of London. She was back in an old lab of her father’s. It was night. There was someone screaming in the room.

 

She turned and saw Nikola, strapped to a chair, and flickering in and out of his transformation. His skin was ashen and like wax, screaming, the transformation painful and frightening. It was the first week after they had all taken the source blood and had discovered the secrets in his own origins.

 

“Let me go…” he moaned, his body wracked with seizures as he struggled in the chair.

 

She found herself walking over to him, raising her right arm, and striking him across the face. His head snapped to the side, blood spraying from his nose and lips. When he turned to face her, speckled with his own bright blood, it was with a cold mask of hatred.

 

“Go on then, old boy. Finish the deed,” He snarled.

 

Shocked, Helen looked over to the small mirror of polished metal on the wall. She saw John Druitt’s face staring back at her.

 

“You’re turning into a monster,” She felt herself saying, the voice strange and unfamiliar falling from her lips.

 

He looked up at her with black, bottomless eyes. “You would speak to me of monstrosity?”

 

Helen fell to her knees in front of him, grasping his arms. He moaned piteously again, struggling against the vampire inside of him. When he finally looked up at her, it was with his own eyes.

 

“Helen, you’re killing me…”

 

***

 

         When Helen woke she found it was with her face soaked in tears, and with horrible sobs seizing in her chest. She buried her face in her arms and let them take their course. She wept and mourned and grieved until her throat was raw and she had no more tears to shed, or silent screams to unleash.

 

         She lay there, silent and still for many hours later, wishing no more sleep, no more dreams and no more the barbaric lance of loss.

 

         The morning came, shy and diffident through her curtained windows. Her face was dry and only the edges of her eyes were red when the Big Guy came in with her morning mail and cup of tea. Her voice was calm and tempered when she spoke to him.

 

         “Where is he buried?”

 

         He looked up, surprised, but refrained from any commentary, which she was grateful for. “The old birch tree at the back of the grounds.”

 

         “I think I’m ready to see him.”


	8. Chapter 8

EIGHT

***

 

         Helen walked into the lab and was hit by the stench of death. The cardboard box lay forlornly on Henry’s desk, and she only needed to take one step forward to know it was the source. So, Algernon was finally dead.

 

         “I hope you had good dreams,” She whispered to the mouse. She took one last vial of the Shepherd’s venom and placed it into her pocket. She would suffer no more of the dreams, seductive and violent at the same time, but what was contained in this vial was enough for three sips.

 

         She wasn’t sure why, but it was important to her that she have it. She left the lab, turning off the lights, and made her way to the grounds outside.

 

         Under the old birch tree she saw a small stone plaque set into the ground. There was some freshly overturned earth below it. She knelt underneath the tree and read the inscription. “Nikola Tesla: Genius.” Despite her sorrow she laughed.

 

         She lay down on the ground, her fingers skimming over the smooth stone, and she fell asleep. She dreamt of nothing.

 

***

 

         When Helen woke, the sky was a dark blanket of stars. Had she slept that long? The night chill had crept into her arms, and she rubbed them for warmth.

 

         “Why have they not given you a year of death, dear friend?” She said to the headstone. It remained silent and unyielding, the bold letters of his name barely visible in the darkness.

 

         Helen, struck by some unknown impulse, began to scoop away the earth with her hands. It fell from her fingers, clumped and moist, and she didn’t realize she was building up momentum until a drop of sweat fell into her eye. There was a large pile of dirt beside her, and she looked down at the sizeable hole she had made.

 

         Like a woman possessed, she scraped away the dirt around the edges of the headstone and freed it from its nesting place. She used that to hack away at the earth and shovel more away.

 

         Helen did not know for how long she dug, her arms mechanically moving of her own accord, soon scraping away at the walls of earth she had formed, until the edge of the headstone suddenly scraped against something hard. Breathless, Helen kicked her heel against the ground and felt wood.

 

         She looked up and saw the walls of the earthen chamber reaching just above her head, the night sky winking back at her. She should climb back up, leave this resting place…

 

         Helen looked back down at her feet, and then fell to her knees and scraped away more dirt until she revealed the wooden surface of a coffin.

 

         Her hands scraped raw and bleeding, she struck the wooden surface with the headstone until it splintered and cracked. Desperately, she pulled apart the flimsy boards, tossing them carelessly to the side.

 

         Nikola lay there, still, his eyes closed, and she brushed away some of the loose dirt from his face. She yanked up more boards until there was a hole large enough for her to lie down beside him. She wrapped an arm around his cold body and rested her head against his shoulder.

 

         “Vilmot te…” She whispered.

 

         An arm squeezed her back, and shaking she buried her face deeper into him. She felt fingers brushing the hair from his face, and a rumble through the chest she was resting on when he spoke.

 

         “No, Helen, don’t sleep here.”

 

         “Nikola, I feel lost…”

 

         He moved against her, shifting so he could see her face. He cupped her face in his hand, his thumb stroking lightly up and down her jaw. “Try, Helen, try…”

 

         Helen reached down and felt inside her pocket. She drew up the small vial of Shepherd’s venom, and graced him with a trembling smile. “One sip for waking, two to help sleep, and three for soul’s dreaming…”

 

         Nikola shook his head, his face lined with concern and longing. He wrapped his hand around hers. “Why, lubjav, why this?”

 

         “It’s only when I’m dreaming that I feel truly alive.”

 

         Nikola took the vial from her, gently slipping it out of her fingers. His skin felt cool and dry. “Don’t give in to your dreams, Helen.”

 

         He leant forward and kissed her gently, a feather’s touch against her lips. She could smell a hint of wine amongst the warmth, and damp of the earthen grave around them. She shuddered against him. “I don’t want to say goodbye.”

 

         He chuckled softly, she could feel his laughter and reveled in the life behind it. “I would never leave so easily. I’m here … seculo seculorum, semper et in aeternum, inter somnium…”

 

         Helen closed her eyes, drinking in the gentle promise, and repeated it aloud to herself. “Forever and ever…forever and always…in dreams…”

 

         Nikola held her face gently in his hands and said, “I think she’s awake.”

 

         “What?”

 

         “Awake, I think she’s awake…”

 

***

 

         “Hurry, get _in here_.”

 

         “Magnus? Are you there?”

 

         Helen felt a flurry of movement around her, and a sudden disturbance of weight to her right. Her eyes were suddenly hit with a flash of brilliant light, and she moaned and shut them against the unexpected assault.

 

         “Oh my god, doc…”

 

         “Don’t just stand there gawking, make yourself useful.”

 

         She felt disoriented, pain suddenly flooding through her body. Everything hurt, but most of all she felt like something was tearing inside her head. The shock of the pain, like white-hot bolts of lighting, knocked her out breathless and she felt a swoop of nausea.

 

         “Helen…” She felt two warm hands encircle around her own, and was grateful for the touch, using it to help orient herself. “Helen…”

 

         She cracked her eyes open, fighting down the spell of dizziness, and squinting against the brilliant light. Her vision swam, and she held onto the warm presence beside her. Struggling, she saw a familiar face come into focus, taut and worn with concern.

 

         “Nikola?” Her voice could barely raise above a whisper. She saw a pained and hopeful reaction on his face at the sound of her voice. “Nikola…oh gods…”

 

         She fainted dead away again.

 

***

 

         Helen rested on the verge of consciousness for the next few hours, her body protesting at being awake, and too weak to exert herself at all. She was always looked over by someone sitting at her bedside, and had various drips and shots administered to her.

 

         “I know it hurts…” She heard Will’s voice as if it were underwater. “But we’ve got to do this gradually or your entire system might go into shock. Hang in there, you’ve done great. The worst is over…”

 

         When she was finally well enough to stay awake and alert, she noticed an empty wine bottle on the table beside her bed, and a worn book by Borges. She looked about her, but despite all the signs of his occupation, there was no Nikola.

 

         She sank back, dreading to be in another dream, but this time she felt distinctly awake. The pain in her limbs and in her head was hard-edged and unrelenting.

 

         Will sat down beside her, the Big Guy behind him, and the look of relief on his tired, hollow face made her crack a weak smile. “It’s good to see you again.”

 

         “Nikola?”

 

         Will nodded amiably. “We forced him to go sleep. He’s been here every day looking after you.”

 

         Helen felt an unpleasant stickiness in her mouth, gratefully drinking from the cup of water the Big Guy pressed into her hand. “What happened?”

 

         “We got a distress call on the auto-type and flew over as soon as we could. You guys were buried under a lot of rubble. We later found out that there’s a very old, very nasty abnormal living down in those caverns along with the Shepherd frogs. An earth elemental.”

 

         Helen began to nod, then had to stop herself as the pain in her head crippled her from any sudden movement. The rest of the puzzle was beginning to fall into place now, though.

 

         Will continued. “When we found you … your heart had stopped beating. One of the rocks fell on your head. Tesla injected you with the venom and your systems came back online, but it’s been touch and go since … you’ve—“

 

         Helen smiled weakly and said, “I’ve been having some very odd dreams…”

 

         The Big Guy grunted and jabbed a thumb into his chest. “Same thing I went through. Some people make it out, some don’t.”

 

         “Tesla’s been here these whole three weeks trying to wake you up.” Will looked down, a little shame-faced. “After the first week, some of us lost hope, but he insisted you would snap out of it. He wouldn’t let us touch you.”

 

         Helen felt a small chill at the reflection of what she had been going through in her mind, and felt a small prickle on her palm. She looked down and saw two faint cuts forming a “T”. Her breath stopped, suddenly afraid she was in a dream again.

 

         Will noticed how it disturbed her, and quickly offered, “He did that to try and wake you up. He did a lot of loony things.”

 

         The Big Guy let out a small bark of laughter. “He walked in one day and yelled, ‘heal yourself!’ He hadn’t slept in three days.”

 

         “He spoke to me the entire time,” Helen said quietly, almost to herself. Will and the Big Guy nodded, and she felt her eyes slipping shut.

 

         “Get some rest. It’s all over now.” Will squeezed her hand comfortingly, and took her cup of water from her. Helen felt a small note of fear to fall back asleep, but Will’s continued reassurance finally convinced her it was safe to dream again.

 

***

 

         When Helen woke next, it was to find Nikola slumped over in his chair beside her, his head resting against the wall. His hand was resting lightly on her bedside, curled against her own.

 

         When she stirred awake, he sprang up like a cat, his eyes wide until he realized what had woken him. Relief washed over his face, and then his eyes narrowed into a glare.

 

         “Don’t scare me like that again.”

 

         He stretched out his arms, working out a kink in his shoulder blades, rubbing his face tiredly. He looked more gaunt than usual, his eyes hollow. He looked a touch self-conscious when she continued to stare at him, a secret smile on her lips, and frowned.

 

         “I know I don’t look my best, but I’m not used to taking care of patients, you know.”

 

         Helen laughed lightly. “Perish the thought. Your bedside manner would scare them all away.”

 

         He placed a gentle hand under her chin, tilting her head to the right and the left as he examined her. “How are you feeling?”

 

         “Oh, like hell.” He smiled at that.

 

         “Sweet dreams? You’ve been giving sleeping beauty a run for her money.”

 

         Helen smiled at him. Despite his bluster and barbed banter, his worry, his fears and his devotion were so transparent to her now. She said mysteriously, “Yes. I dreamed of Smiljan.”

 

         That caught him off guard, and she saw a twinge of nervousness on his face. While she had been sleeping he had nakedly poured all of his grief and his feeling onto her sleeping form; ranting, pleading, cajoling, and endlessly asking for her to wake up. He didn’t know what to do now that she was awake and had heard him.

 

         “Was it nice?”

 

         She made to sit up, and he eased an arm around her to help. “It was lonely. It was cold.”

 

         He snorted. “And you wonder why I’ve never been back.”

 

         “It wouldn’t be so lonely if we went together. Old friends.” Helen felt her weakened body tremble, and her hand curled into his shirt as she waited for the tremor to subside. He tucked his arm more securely around her in concern, his face tilted ever so closely to hers. She could feel his breath against her cheek.

 

         “Nikola, I still feel so tired … I don’t want to fall asleep again.”

 

         He murmured soothingly beside her ear, “I’ll be here…” She rested, comforted, against him, her eyes already feeling heavy, and felt a smile creep onto her lips for she could swear she heard the faint whisper of “lubjav” trailing from the end of his sentence.

 

***

END


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